the wannabes

Elfie hovered in the shadows, clocking away the ticking of a family in slow motion, the irritating rattling of normality beyond her grasp. The boy was playing cheerfully with his hair while helping the dog to eat his dinner. Elfie spun in the air above them, dancing for the opportunity to dive straight down into the mess and make them all laugh, or cry.

“Juanito. Keep an eye on her for a minute.” 

Elfie saw his mother smile and sensed the lie as she continued. “Just need to make a quick call.”

The boy flushed, his lips drew into a thin, red line. Elfie was dying to flirt in his face, kiss him to life and show him how to defy life and have fun, but he couldn’t see her yet. She blew her cheeks into red balloons with frustration before hissing away into the corner to watch the fun from a distance.

The baby sister smiled, threw some food at him. Juanito spun her high chair around in a circle. Babysister gurgled. Juanito didn’t. Elfie could see tears building behind his hazel eyes, swelling into marbles of granite. Juanito caught the child’s hair to stop her spinning. Babysister cried out. Her brother pulled harder. The high chair was about to fall over. 

“Careful!” their mother shouted from the doorway. “She’s only a baby.”

Only a baby? Babies rule the roost. I wannabe a baby again! thought Juanito. He’d like to make his baby sister go bump into the night and have their mother just to himself. Elfie could hear his pleas as if they were her own. She fluttered out the window in a flurry of frustration: she’d find a way of releasing the poor boy from the clasp of a spoilt child. “Juanito,” she whispered, soothing, endearingly enticing across the sunlight pane.

Elfie could smell the flowers, red, yellow, blue, greeny pink, white honey. A breeze whistled tunes, playing music that ran between the leaves, forcing them dance in tune. 

Elfie looked up into the sun and saw clouds puff into shapes in the sky, shadowy animals, crackers, strawberry pops floating all around. She licked them gently, blew and puffed them away. She was bored. She didn’t wannabe an Elfie. She sat upright, her blue eyes narrowing in search of prey.

There he was, kicking a football off the gable end of his house. The ball thumped, popped against the brick, plopped into the damp lawn, spun off his shoe, then off the wall. The rattle tattle was driving Elfie crazy. In a huff she jumped through the air and blew the ball to one side, towards the drain, into the dirty water gushing from his mother’s washing machine. 

Juanito yelled. “No!” He couldn’t pick it up. It stank. He didn’t want his hands wet. He left it there, kicked a pebble into the bushes and sat down to sulk.

“Ha!” Elfie laughed. 

The pebble cut her cheek.

“Not funny!” she cried while silently admired his skill. She was bristling with the thrill of making herself visible and showing him the world was meant to be. She spun her wings in a nervous twirl before stamping on the brakes and ruffling them close in case she spoilt the spell.

“Serves you right!” His foot took aim at another stone.

“Right for what?”

Bored with the challenge, Juanito sat on the gravel, took out his mobile phone and ignored her.

Elfie was jealous. She wanted one. She flew by in a blaze, spattered him with bird poo, and splashed him with dirty water. 

Juanito jumped up annoyed. He stamped, then kicked a pebble sharply towards her cheek. Elfie darted out of range. Juanito went off to the kitchen calling for his mother even though he knew she would be with Babysister and would never believe in Elves. Elfie sighed at his impatience. He would be back. He’d learn mothers were nothing but a basketful of unfulfilled promises.

“Mummy I wannabe a boy.”

“You’re a girl.”

“A human boy.”

“What nonsense. Why?”

“They have fun.”

“You’re an elf. You have fun all the time. That is what you do. You run around, tease them, lock doors, lose keys, break their toys, drop spiders in their soup, hide keys under the table, throw the remote control out the window, tip umbrellas backwards, run down batteries, loosen belts and watch trousers fall down.”

“But boys have more fun,” Elfie insisted.

Her mother sighed.

“They have all those toys, Xboxes, fiddly things I don’t understand.”

“Honey you can fly, jump, be invisible, play with all the human toys whenever you want, lose them, hide them at the tip of your hat.”

“I don’t like my hat.”

“Elves wear hats.”

“Boys don’t.”

“Elf boys do. You don’t really want to be a human boy.” Her mother sounded tired. 

Elfie fell asleep, dreaming of boys.

Later she woke up and went out to play. Elfie flew across to the boy’s window. She rattled it a little, purred like a breeze. Juanito stirred, pulled the blanket over his head. Elfie kicked the window open. The wind frightened him. She watched him shiver, turn over and fumble with the T.V. His mother was downstairs and couldn’t hear him twist and turn. Elfie flew across and sat beside him on the pillow. The boy didn’t notice. She sighed. Her magic just wasn’t good enough yet. I wannabe stronger, she thought as she hummed them both to sleep.

Elfie broke through the forest and sat on his knee. Juanito smelt a bit damp, like old clothes, or a withered bush, a leaf falling to the ground in late spring. He was whistling, out of tune.

“Hello.” he said.

“Hello,” she mimicked.

“I can see you,” he said, freckles glowing cheekily.

“We can always see you.” Elfie paused. “How can you see me?”

“Well I can.”

“What do I look like?”

“Don’t know but you feel light, cute, bit bold, naughty, like a young pup.”

“I don’t pee behind the flowerpot. “

“Neither does the dog.”

“I don’t pee.”

“That’s weird. The pup does.”

They thought about that.

“Want to play?”

“No. I want to get my sister into trouble. She’s horrible to me.”

“Sounds like fun.”

They pulled Babysister around on the couch, pretending to help her watch cartoons. They dropped her on the floor, by accident. They rolled her sausages into the mustard, then let the dog eat them. The animal puked. When his mother turned red and looked about to explode, they hid behind the sofa, giggling, her fingers brushing his lips to catch his squeals. Babysister went ballistic, crying tears of ice, bitter lollipops just waiting to be licked, kissed, warmed, soothed.

“Meet again tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry, I’m never far away.”

It took the boy a long time to sleep. Babysister was crying, piercing his ears, his mother shushing her, a breeze rustling the trees, a car crashing down the street, all rocking his pillow like a hammock in a storm. Elfie closed his window gently, not sure if she shut herself in or out.

Burnt toast stung the morning air. His mother dropped a plate. Juanito giggled. His mother stared. 

“Probably just the elves,” he said. 

Mummy didn’t think it was funny. Neither did Elfie. She sulked behind the curtain, the material too heavy to be blown out into a sail.

Juanito stormed off. His mother didn’t notice. Elfie followed him down the garden, behind the rubbish bins. The rain stopped, leaving occasional drops to spatter puddles. She fluttered over his shoulder. She smelt sweet, fresh and soft, like clean nappies, creamy talc before bedtime. She let him sniff her gently before pecking him on the cheek.

“I wannabe an elf. I wannabe a-live-forever, I wannabe a never grown up. I wannabe bad,” said Juanito.

“I’m not bad,” Elfie said.

“You play, annoy people, and have fun. No school, no homework, no growing up and work.”

“But I’m not bad,” Elfie said.

They threw pebbles idly at a passing butterfly.

 “I wannabe a leprechaun,” said Juanito.

“Why?”

“They have a crock of gold at the end of that rainbow.”

“I wannabe a leprechaun too,” said Elfie. “I like gold.”

“We can share it.”

“Maybe.”

They didn’t look at each other. Knowing what they wannabe made the future distant and uncertain, lonely and empty.

“Shall we annoy Babysister?” asked Elfie.

“No, let’s just watch the rainbow for a minute.”

Summer closed in, faded to autumn, goose-pimpled legs in shorts. Juanito struggled back to school. She watched, perched on the garden gate as he swung his bag over a hunched shoulder. He didn’t seem to see her anymore, his brain lacking the time or energy. His smile dried up under the grind of homework and another failed exam. She watched him forget about elves and gold and rainbows and hopes and even Babysister. Elfie fumed as Juanito’s mother beamed with joy and muttered about how mature he was becoming. 

Elfie flew around, alighting on his shoulder, tweaking his ear, wondering why he no longer cared for her attentions. She rattled his cage, the window frame, changed channels when he wasn’t watching, stole batteries and his favourite pens, but he never seemed to notice. 

Elfie huffed and flew away in search of another friend. Her enjoyment grew more devious, her pranks more aggressive as she realized she was an Elf and probably always would be. Occasionally, she still stared at Juanito but gradually spent more and more time down the corridor with Babysister. Here was one tiny being who appreciated a little wickedness. Poor Juanito. Suddenly, two girls had all the time in the world to plan their revenge, find the pot of gold he’d left behind, the Leprechaun he didn’t wannabe anymore and drive his mother far away into the dark realms where flowers were nothing but stems bending earthwards in the wind.